On Garden Street
by PlaidBerry
Summary: Dave's abuse shown through the perspective of his parents, siblings, etc. Chapter Three is up!!!
1. Father

Disclaimer: I don't own them, don't sue me.  
Author's Note: This is shown through the father's view of Dave's abuse. It takes place approximately when Dave is eight or nine.The next chapter will be shown through his mother's point of view. Then maybe his brother's, I'm not sure. I lack the ability to think that far into the future. I want to make it very clear that I'm not advocating abuse in any way, shape or form. If you or someone you know are being abused, call 1-800-422-4453.  
--  
  
I work everyday. I love my kids but they just get in the way sometimes, and I unintentionally hurt them sometimes. But they need to suck it up and learn to deal with the fact that life isn't always going to be 'The Brady Bunch'. I finely got home after a ten-hour shift and all I want to do is to watch the football game on TV. I bring in all the money; I deserve to watch my game. As soon as I get in my chair, Dave comes around, being disruptive.   
"Shut up!" I yell, trying to hear the TV.  
"Sorry, Daddy." He replies.  
I go back to watching the game and a few minutes later he's making noise. Before I can tell him to shut up I hear a crash of glass breaking. The stupid little bastard broke my ashtray. He's always doing stuff like that. I have no choice. I get up, my fingers clenched in fists, and try to calmly walk over to him. He starts mumbling something about being sorry and he'll never do it again. He always does it again. Before I can think straight, I hit him upside the head and he's on the floor, crying like a little bitch. To get him to stop crying, I kick him in the stomach a couple of times. Then resume watching my game.   
"What the hell did you do, Roy?" My whore-of-a-wife asks me.  
"He broke the ashtray, I taught him a lesson."  
She looks at me like I'm lying. She drags him off into the kitchen to clean him up. I can finally get some peace to watch my game. A while later, she sends Dave off to bed and my game's over. I walk over to her in the kitchen, wrap my arms around her waist and begin to kiss her neck. She shrugs me off and steps away.  
"What the hell is your problem?" I ask.   
"My problem? Ask your son! Why do you always treat him this way?"  
"You stupid bitch."  
I slap her as hard as I can across her right cheek. She remains standing, holding her swollen, red cheek. She tries to say something but gives up.  
"Huh? Come on, you know you're useless without me. You and that stupid son of yours."  
"He's your son, too."  
"How do you even know? You've been fucking so many guys, I have a one in two-hundred chance it's mine."   
"I never cheated on you, you cheated on me."  
"How dare you accuse me, you stupid-whore!"  
I grab whatever I can find, which happens to be a frying pan, and hit her on the head. She falls to the ground in the fetal position. My anger overwhelms why body, I don't want to hurt her but she deserves it.  
"I-I'm sorry, baby." I apologize.  
I scoop her into my arms and carry her into the bedroom. I set her down on the bed and cover her up. She's trembling so I put on the extra blankets from the bedroom closet. I retrieve some ice from the freezer and gently place it on her head. I crawl on the other side of her, and fall asleep in our little house on Garden Street.  
--  
I know it's short, but it's short and sweet so deal with it. R/R!  
  
  



	2. Mother

Disclaimer: I don't own them, don't sue me.  
Author's Note: This is shown through the perspective of Dave's mother, however, it doesn't take place the day in the previous chapter. It's around the same time frame, though.  
--  
I do my best to be a good mother for Dave and Vince. Despite their father, he really loves us, but he has a bad temper. It's not his fault. We do things to irritate him. I try hard to protect my boys but I can only do so much. After finally washing all of the dishes, Roy comes home.  
"Julia? You here?" He asks. I try to seem as happy as possible.  
"Yes, Roy, I'm in the kitchen."  
Footsteps grow louder, then he appears in the kitchen. He's still in his work coveralls, he works at the metal plant downtown. As always, I parade over and kiss him on the cheek.  
"How was your day?"  
"Same as always..."  
"I hope you're hungry, I made steak with mashed potatoes and corn for dinner."  
"What the hell? Do you have any idea how much steak costs?"  
"It's been a while since we've had steak and I thought it'd be a nice treat-"  
Wham! The breath is knocked out of me from a punch in the stomach. I instinctively double over in pain and let out a quiet yelp.  
"Well, it's not like we can take it back, but you ask me the next time you wanna get all fancy." He orders.  
"Mommy? What's wrong?" Dave asks.  
"Honey, go play in your room." I plead as I stand upright, hoping for him to not get hurt.  
"Mommy? Are you okay?"  
"Do as your mother says, you little brat!" Roy yells. Before I can ask him to stop he slaps Dave. It's followed with a bellowing cry.   
"I'm going to watch the game." Roy announces as he walks into the living room.  
Dave is crying, he walks over to me and I bend down and hold him tight. It's my fault he hurts Dave. It's like this everyday. I lose track of time calming Dave down, but he stops crying. I do my best to look happy.  
"Your father loves us very much, he just gets angry." I tell Dave, as always.  
"You go to bed, you have school tomorrow." I tell him, leading him into his bedroom. Dave climbs into his bed and I tuck him in. I gently kiss him on the forehead goodnight.  
--  
Back in the living room, we're having another fight about nothing. I think it's about Dave getting hit or me being a bad example, I'm never sure anymore. We always fight after I put the kids to bed. Luckily, Vince is at a summer camp so we don't have to deal with two kids getting hurt. Too bad for Dave. We didn't have enough money to send them both to camp.  
"You're always spoiling the boy!" He yells.  
"You're always attacking him!"  
"I teach him how to behave! If it were up to you, he'd be the most spoiled brat alive."  
"There's a difference between teaching him a lesson and hurting him."  
I should have watched myself. It's my fault he hit me. It's my fault he didn't stop hitting me until he got tired and went to bed.  
"Come to bed when you're done getting cleaned up." Roy orders like I'm doing laundry.  
I slowly get up, my entire body throbbing with pain. I gently wipe the blood off with a kitchen towel. The blood swirls down the drain, making a silent, washed out pattern in the sink. After all of my wounds are cleaned and dressed, I slowly walk into the bedroom, and go to sleep in out little house on Garden Street.  



	3. Brother

Disclaimer: I do not own them, nor do I want to be sued.  
Author's Note: This is shown through the eyes of Dave's brother, Vince. It's when Dave is about twelve and Vince is about thirteen.   
--  
It was a cool fall day. The leaves were red, orange, and yellow. But every time I saw a brilliant red leaf, I shutter to think of its liquid comparison. It's Friday and I'm walking home with Dave from school. We're talking about nothing; girls, homework, etc. We reach the front door and Dave hesitates to open it. Walking inside, I can smell the cigarette smoke and stale beer in the air.   
"Welcome home, boys! How was school?" Mom asks as she kisses us both on the head.   
"Fine." We say in unison as we hang up our coats. Dad walks out of the bedroom and looks us over.  
"Hi, boys." He says, slurring his words.  
"Hi, Dad." I reply. Dave tries to walk into his bedroom but Dad stops him by putting his hand on Dave's chest.  
"Where do you think you're going?"  
"My bedroom." Dave says, trying to avoid confrontation. Because he's younger, he's the scapegoat for Dad's beatings.  
"Your bedroom!" he lets out a small chuckle. "Did you pay for that bedroom?"  
"No, sir."  
Dad moves his hand from Dave's chest to his neck and makes a tight grasp.  
"That's right." He says, obviously tightening his grip. "You think about that next time you say something's yours."  
Dave nods yes but Dad doesn't let go. He shoves him against the wall and walks over to the couch and starts watching TV. I hurry over to Dave and help him up.  
"You okay?"   
"As okay as I can be."  
He walks into our bedroom and flops down on the bed. He reaches from his backpack and pulls out his homework and starts doing it. I do the same as him. We quietly do our homework like we're supposed to but I hear Dad fighting with Mom. I can hear her crying and him hitting her. Dave flinches with the sound of her being beaten. Then it's silent.   
We look at each other and know what it means. It means Dad's coming to our room. It means Dad's going to hit us. As if on schedule, the door flies open and Dad bursts in, screaming. He grabs me by the back of my neck and slams me against the wall. The breath is knocked out of me. I can see Dave, burying his face in his knees as he's crunched up against the headboard of his bed.   
Dad continues slamming me into the fall. I can see my blood on the wall, dripping down. He grows tired and stops. Dad turns around, about to leave, but stops. He sees that Dave sits there untouched. Dad walks over to Dave and makes him stand up. Dave is visibly trembling. Dad hesitates, the punches him hard four times in the stomach then stomps off. Dave and I lie on the floor in the fetal position. I can see Dave has a small trickle of blood coming from his mouth.  
"You, okay?" I ask, out of breath.  
"As okay as I can be." He replies.  
We both let out a small chuckle. And we wait to regain our strength. We wait for tomorrow to come in our little house on Garden Street.  
--  
R/R!  



End file.
